


its a cold, cold world.

by cappysuns



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Maybe I am, chestnut and walnut are siblings, chestnut dies, chestnut? never heard of him, fire spirit is mentioned just a little bit, im not sorry, nah lmao, roguefort doesnt do his taxes, roguefort is their dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cappysuns/pseuds/cappysuns
Summary: chestnut fucking diesthanks cookie run server for this idea yall wildin 😳💅
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	its a cold, cold world.

_“Extra! Extra! Read all about it!” The chestnut cookie announced to the bustling streets of Snickerdoodle Corner. It was a bristling winter night, and he hadn’t sold a single paper yet. All were neatly stacked in a wagon rather then his tricycle basket, that at his home with his father, Roguefort, and his sister, Walnut. They were probably cozied up by the campfire watching A Christmas Story, thought the young boy, looking around with desperation painting his features._

_It had been hours now, the blistering cold starting to get to the boy. The wind was howling and the streets were emptier than earlier, only one or two people walking by now rather than the massive groups of 5 or 6. He wanted to go home, but he needed to sell at least one paper. Just one. Then he’d be content and set his way home, merry and content. Maybe gleeful._

He should have gone home, but he realized that very late. His papers had been knocked over by the cold winter wind, and he struggled to pick them up, fingers numb and trembling as he struggled to pick up the icy stacks. The snow was coming down much more, leaving him shivering violently and his teeth chattering. He needed to go home, but it was much too far for him to even think he could survive. Could this be it? He prayed not. He prayed to Millennial Tree and any other deities above that he could make it. He _had_ to.

Icy tears strolled down his cheeks as he realized his fate much too late, huddled up in a dark and chilly alley as he fiddled with a pack of lighters, struggling to light even one. Nobody was around, and it was quite dark out. What could he do? Nothing. He had given up hope long ago, when the stacks blew away into the streets and to who knows where. Probably in the trash, he thought, softly sniffling and lying down on the ground. He was freezing, yet the snow felt like a warm blanket, inviting him in. _I should sleep here, I am quite tired.._ He thought, wrapping his thin arms around himself and letting the snow take him, cover him and keep him cozy.. even if he were actually dying. He knew his fate that he wouldn’t have gotten home, but not that he wouldn’t have gotten home for he had died.

During his last breathing moments a glowing figure seemed to walk towards him, his body much too cold to even feel the warmth of the body approaching him. It suddenly sat beside him, the figure’s hand on him, on his head. A long sigh left the unknown man, gruff.

“I feel you, kid.” The figure mutters as it lies beside him, pulling the boy close, cocooning his shivering and barely alive body. “For i'm dying slowly too. Maybe we’ll see each other in the afterlife.” And with that, they were gone, with the wind, the snow, everything.

Days passed before anyone found his body, lying limp in the thick bed of snow. Roguefort was on another run from the police when he tripped over Chestnut, hitting the ground hard but he ended up fine. The police were long gone, unable to find him, but Roguefort wasn’t focused on them anymore. He wondered what he tripped over, it seemed like nothing was in the alleyway. 

He approached where he tripped slowly and cautiously, kicking the snow away with his boot until seeing who it was. His look of confusion turned to pain, tears already stinging the thief’s eyes.

_”Dad,” Started the younger of his two adopted children, Walnut, “Where is Chestnut? He said he would come home before dinner.” She continued, poking at her dinner. The thief shrugged, “He may be busy right now, sweetie. He’ll be home soon I promise.” He reached over to pat her head, a comforting and reassuring smile on his face._

_Days passed with no sign of Chestnut, and Roguefort was worried. He would never leave for this long without telling him. He told himself that maybe he was just... somewhere else, maybe busy printing more newspapers. But the worry never left._

”Chestnut..” The delinquent said in a hushed tone, crouching over the corpse of his dear son, his everything. He let out a soft sob and for the first time in years, he cried. He let out pent up emotions, years of bottled up emotions, sobbing loud and into the nothingness of the alleyway. He should have never lied to himself and actually went out and looked for Chestnut, this could have been avoided.

His cries eventually turned into soft sobs, and he pulled his son’s corpse out from the snow, a small thud of a gem falling. He quirked a brow and cleared his throat, reaching down again. He picked up what had fell from Chestnut’s deceased body, examining it.

It was Fire Spirit’s gem, he knew that quite well. It shined as bright as the legend’s flames, or it usually did. It looked dull, like it never shone. He shrugged it off and put the gemstone in the pocket of his thick coat, carrying his son somewhere nice he could be buried.

A graveyard was where he put him, a small gravestone made out of a rock he picked up along the way was used, and in shaky writing it had his name and his age. He was so young, and the gods decided to take him away. His son.   
  


“I love you.” Roguefort said softly, setting down a single rose onto his son’s grave before getting up and hurrying his way home before he began to cry again. He couldn’t. He could shed only so many tears. He wouldn’t tell Walnut either, she was too young. She’d be too hurt, even if she wouldn’t understand the concept of death, she would live with the lifelong reminder of her brother’s short lived life, though her being mad at her father later for neglecting and never telling her would be worse, Roguefort didn’t care.   
  


He lost one, and he didn’t want to lose her, too. 


End file.
